


Detachment

by Kat_of_seas



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blind!John, Blindness, Car Accidents, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 18:03:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_of_seas/pseuds/Kat_of_seas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A serious car accident causes some problems for John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When John and Dave left the dorm that June night, they expected no trouble as they went to and from the movies.

  
They were wrong.  
\----  
John Egbert and Dave Strider had been bros for years. When they were seventeen, and planning their college applications, simultaneously because John had skipped fourth grade, they knew they wanted to go to the same school. Neither revealed it to each other, until they were on Skype one late night, talking about the schools they had got accepted to.

  
John had plans to major in Graphic Design, while Dave had a roaring passion for Asian History. It was not in the least because of Bro’s addiction to anime, which had led to the unlucky blonde being raised not unlike a Japanese schoolgirl, being routinely forced to sprint to school five minutes late with toast hanging out of his mouth.

  
“Haha, yeah, Yale’s way too pretentious. I totally shouldn’t have even applied.” John had adored the notion of Yale. This statement was made after a crushing rejection, shattering his hopes of being an English major, which he would have favored over making video games any day.

  
“Yeah man. Bates is way better. Probably gonna end up there next fall.” Dave had applied to Bates knowing that they had one of the best history programs out there. He wanted to be a historian, or maybe teacher. He didn’t know yet. All he did know was that the best way to start was with that degree.

  
“Holy crap man. You got into Bates too?”

  
Both of the boys’ eyes widened, though Dave’s were hidden behind his ever-present dark shades.

  
“We’re going to Bates!” Both boys shouted.

  
Less than a minute later, Bro showed up in Dave’s room with a katana.

  
“What the fuck, kid?” The elder shouted.

  
“John and I both got into Bates! We’re going to college together,” Dave explained, happier than Bro had seen him in years.

  
Bro left the room as quickly as he had come, a mild smirk and the word ‘Gay’ passing his lips as he flash-stepped out.

  
Two minutes later, while John and Dave were grinning at each other, wordlessly, over webcam, Dad Egbert entered John’s room with a wooden spoon in his hand.

  
John laughed so hard he had an asthma attack _(His Heir of Breath powers had left him once the game ended, and his asthma returned cruelly.)_ and had to sign off.

  
\---

  
That was four years ago. Now, the boys were just graduated. All the credits were sorted. They had the degrees, and only had to go across the stage to get them. They were going out for a movie night.

  
“We have to go see Magic Mike! Matthew McConaughey is hilarious, and the fact that the theater is re-running that film is a miracle.”

  
“Dude, the My Little Pony movie just came out. Is there even a debate?”

  
The boys laughed.

  
Then a sixteen wheeler swerved from the intersecting street and plowed into the passenger side of Dave’s car.

  
One thought went through Dave’s mind before everything went black. _‘Fuck, John.’_

  
John swiveled his head to see what the hell was happening. The last things he ever saw were the headlights of a truck. Then everything went black. Only for John, they stayed that way.


	2. Chapter 2

Dave woke up when the firemen started to pry open the car. The sixteen wheeler had hit from the back right, so it didn’t completely crush the front seats. Dave blearily opened his eyes and gave the necessary responses to the EMTs.

                “Do you have a valid license?”

                “Yeah, it’s in my wallet somewhere.”

                “Do you remember your head snapping back at any time during the incident?”

                “Nope.”

                “Can you follow this light?”

                Dave took off his sunglasses and did so.

“Were you driving under the influence of drugs or alcohol?”

                “Fuck no man, my best bro was in the car-” Dave began, “Where the fuck is John? Where the fuck is the guy who was in the car with me?” His eyes darted around.

                “We’re trying to remove him from the car n-” the woman began.

                “Where the fuck is he? Where the fuck is my car? Is he okay?”

                “We won’t know all those facts until he regains conciou-”

                “Woah he passed out what the fuck?” Dave finally spotted his car and ran over to the passenger side. He quickly spotted John’s blue hood and raised his hand over his mouth. John was still in the car.

\---

                

The EMTs didn’t get Dave into an ambulance for further testing at the hospital until John was out of the car and on a stretcher headed to the hospital. Then Dave tolerated all of the testing under the bribe that he could see John sooner if he made it easier.

                As it turned out, the only injury Dave had was a broken right hand, wrist, and arm. Luckily, it wouldn’t impede his art skills, as he was perfectly ambidextrous. Anyone raised by Bro would have to be. After he was casted up, he all but sprinted to John’s room. It was nerve-wrackingly located in the ICU. He was still unconscious, with a machine breathing for him. The Heir of Breath, using a machine to breathe. The irony struck Dave full force.

                For the next seven days and nights, Dave held a semi-legal vigil by John’s bedside. For the first three days, the nurses constantly tried to get rid of him. By the fourth day, they stopped trying, and started bringing him snacks, coffee, and extra blankets. The proximity did make it easier to be sure he didn’t have any additional damage from the accident. The red cushioned chair became his home.

                It wasn’t until day eight that John woke up.

                He called out softly, voice hoarse from disuse, “Dave?” He coughed and opened his eyes.

                Dave, who had taken to sleeping very lightly, and sparsely, on the off-change John might awaken, woke up and sprung to John’s bed. “Are you okay? What hurts? Can you breathe alright?”

                John coughed again, before choking out, “Everything hurts. And fuck no, I can’t fricking breathe.”

                That was reasonable. He had fractured both his femurs, along with his right tibia and fibula, right ankle, left kneecap, tibia, fibula, ankle, and a few feet bones. Dave had always told him that crossing his legs would get him in trouble. That was just the lower half though. He had broken eight ribs and his right arm as well. He would be in pain for a long time. That was for the doctors to explain though.

                Dave finally spoke up, “I’m so fucking glad you’re alive.”

                “Dave, where are you? And why is everything dark?”

                “What do you mean? I’m right…” That was when Dave noticed the white film coating both of John’s eyes. His own eyes widened. “Fuck.” He clicked the help button over John’s bed until a nurse came.


	3. Chapter 3

The words flooded over Dave and John.

                “Retinal Detachment….”

                “Would have been repairable…”

                “Too late…”

                “The retina will no longer reattach.”

                They were all fancy ways off saying that John would never see again. So in addition to the fact that he had broken enough bones to put him in a wheelchair, he was blind too. Another thing that they only noticed when he woke up- his legs had no sensation. For the time being, he was as paralyzed as Tavros. Pre- godtier.

                All the broken bones were enough to diagnose him with Type 1 Osteogenious Imperfectia. OI for short. A brittle bone disease that was to blame for the fact that he had broken over 30 bones before the crash.

                And his lungs took in a lot of dust and decay, so his asthma attacks would be more frequent.

                John got pretty understandably upset. He didn’t blame Dave, as Dave was so afraid of, but it messed him up.

\---

                A month later, when Dave got cleared to take John home, it was a fight.

                “Why bother, Dave? You should just leave me here.”

                Dave stung. He had gotten an off-campus apartment during junior year. Most of the time John wanted to stay in his dorm, but as Dave was loaded through his Bro’s internet fame, it was plenty big enough for both of them.

                “Come on, John. You’re miserable here. My house can’t be as bad as here. The food’s sure as hell better.”

                John’s face softened ever so slightly. The disgust of hospital food had been something he and Dave had both bitched about. And maybe going home would be okay. He _was_ regaining some of the feeling in his legs now… Not that that was much better. Now, instead of numbness, the healing was obvious. Through lots of pain. He was still wheelchair bound, and would be for a while as they had rodded both his legs… But wheelchair bound at his bro’s had to be better than bed-bound here….

                “Okay.”

                Dave grinned, told a nearby nurse the good news, and handed her a parcel of John’s loosest clothes so she could help him into them and explain what he needed to know about his new wheelchair. Dave had already gotten the lessons. He was running off to go fill John’s prescriptions. Inhaler, painkillers, and a check-up schedule for the next few months.

While he was there he filled his own prescription, Tylenol and the same Zoloft he’d been taking since he’d been taking since he was 10.

When he was leaving, his eyes (still red as fuck, not from Satanism or Albinism as most people expected, but a random genetic malformation that gave him hell for two decades) caught a stand that would now be painfully necessary to both him and John. He picked out two pairs of sunglasses. The first were a new pair for him, plain, red-rimmed aviators, as his old ones from John had broken in the crash. The second were a pair for John, should he ever want them. They were dark blue, with massive square lenses that made them look like the sunglass version of John’s normal glasses.

                He quickly bought them and returned to John’s room, where he found the boy sitting nervously in his wheelchair. John was wearing casts on both his legs, covered by a pair of very baggy sweatpants. His torso housed a loose, light blue tee shirt and a casted right arm, affixed in a sling to make the job easier for his broken scapula and collarbone.

                Dave announced his presence loudly, as to frighten the injured boy less. “I’m back, John!”

                John slightly startled, but grinned. “Finally. I was beginning to think I’d have to wheel myself home,” he joked.

                Dave grinned. “Now, bro, get ready, cause I’m about to start moving you.”

                John prepared himself. Dave took three Tylenol in order to not feel the pain of pushing a wheelchair with a broken arm. He hadn’t told John he had gotten hurt too, and didn’t plan to do so. Striders didn’t admit weakness.

\---

                Forty minutes later, John was checked out and loaded into the back of the cab the hospital had called for the boys. That had required the help of a male nurse. As much as Dave liked to think he was strong, a broken arm had made the task of carrying John into the cab and delicately folding his wheelchair impossible.

                John smirked. He was shockingly unafraid of cars, despite the accident’s nature. When the nurse had asked him, he merely said, “If I was afraid of everything that could kill me, I’d be afraid of everything. Why bother?”

                He had, however, admitted that he didn’t plan on ever getting anywhere near a truck again.

                “So, Dave,” John began, “do they not trust you enough to drive, or move me? Appalling.”

                Well, not telling John was out of the question now. Dave laughed. “Well, the driving is kinda outta the question just because of the whole totaled car business. And no, one bitch with a broken arm is not trusted to carry around another, even more broken-up bitch, no matter how epic first bitch is.”

                John’s face contorted. “You broke your arm? Why didn’t you tell me?”

                Dave snorted. “Sorry bro, didn’t really seem like a priority.”

                Now John’s face reddened. “Don’t give me that crap, Strider. You were just being a cold bastard as usual. Fucking Striders. Never say what needs to be said.”

                Dave looked down. “Sorry John. I didn’t mean to…”

                John’s face softened. He always felt like a shitty person when Dave got that tone. “Hey, man, it’s fine. Just don’t leave the blind guy in the dust next time. You’re always a priority to me.”

                Dave nodded. Then realized that John couldn’t see that. “Er, right. Yeah, sorry, I nodded.” It was easier to seem emotionless when the other guy couldn’t see you cry.

                The cab driver then pulled up outside Dave’s house. “The hospital guys paid me, but I don’t do the carrying hurt people crap. Liability. I’ll get his chair ready, Blonde guy, you get out and put him in it. Sorry I can’t help, but I could get arrested just for touching him.

                The cabbie did what he said. Dave swallowed four more Tylenol and did his part, after about forty “Shit, sorrys” on each end.

 The cabbie passed him another bottle of the stuff. “I can do that for you at least.”

                Dave nodded and wheeled John up to the house, not without more cursing and apologies.

                Dave opened his door, got John into the living room, and laid him on the couch, before sitting down under John’s head.

                “Okay,” Dave starts, “I hope you never have to crap.”


End file.
